


under a crimson sky

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But like it’s just, CALEB GETS A HUG, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Caleb is a scary man, Caleb scares everyone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, ITS JUST SUFFERING, No spoilers pleeeeease, Nobody hates Caleb more than Caleb ;A;, Rated T for torture, THANKS LIAM O BRIEN FOR BEING PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DEATH, and then a happy ending, and then they scare him, but like in only the way Caleb could be scared, but like only episode 18 spoilers, by showing him unconditional love and affection, everyone loves caleb, heck yeah, its not like super bad or anything, kill Trent Ikithon 2k20, major spoilers for Caleb's backstory, someone save him, yeah that’s right guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Five times Caleb did something that greatly disturbed the Mighty Nein and one time they did something that disturbed him.
Relationships: Caleb Widogast & Everyone
Comments: 18
Kudos: 363





	under a crimson sky

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on episode 44 now!! Very minor spoilers for one tiny bit of Nott's backstory from awhile back and huge major spoilers for Caleb's backstory which I believe is from episode 18-ish

As they sat, scheming, consulting each other about Avantika and her pirate cult and trying to find a feasible way to survive, Fjord considered the problem from all angles. The other were discussing it with him and as he opened his mouth to reply, Caleb spoke up first, his blue eyes hard and sharp like chips of ice, "Well, you do what you have to do, ja?"

The orc swallowed as Caleb stared him down. Fjord searched Caleb for a sign of recognition in what he said, what he’d implied- a flicker of emotion, turmoil, desperation, anything.

There was nothing there but steely and emotionless determination. A hard facade that couldn’t be breached.

For a moment, Caleb didn't seem like Caleb- he seemed... something else. Something darker, something harder, a subtle steel in his spine, and a quiet power flickering behind his ice blue eyes like distant flames. Fjord could suddenly believe Caleb and all the times the man had said, " _I am a bad person,_ " as he sat slouched, hunched over his book with wide sad eyes and a scruffy unassuming-  _unthreatening_ face coated in dirt.

Fjord has accepted that and moved on, but without knowing there had been a seed of doubt in his heart about Caleb's supposed badness. He didn’t believe it. Caleb was their squishy wizard, who hung in the back and talked nonstop about books and cats and doted on Nott almost like an affectionate father. He couldn’t have been all  _that_ bad. 

And now, staring him down was a calculating and very  very clever man, careful, determined and with a quick keen mind, full of immense intellect and a vast knowledge, all bent upon him and upon their problem. 

For a moment he believed that Caleb would do anything to make sure that they, that the Mighty Nein, all made it out alive. He would do whatever it took. And for a moment, he was a little scared, a little disturbed of what that might mean, of what Caleb was capable of. 

And then he blinked and Caleb had looked away, and his blue eyes were soft and the color of cornflowers, shying away from eye contact, his red hair stringy and lank against his filthy neck. 

The Caleb he knew was back. 

Fjord wouldn’t easily forget that other man, however, that man clad in darkness and lurking behind their wizard's eyes, ready to come out should something endanger their little group. 

Fjord didn’t think Caleb was a coward, as he often liked to say. Or at least, he wasn’t truly scared of something attacking him. Rather, he was scared of that part of him deep down inside and what terrible and vast measures of darkness he was capable of. 

Fjord half nodded to Caleb who's brows furrowed in confusion. 

He'd do what he had too. 

* * *

Caleb sighed and Jester worried her lower lip as the now not-quite-as-close-to-death-man sat before them terrified and shaking, mouth clamming up as he came to himself and began to realize that he probably shouldn’t be spilling the Mist's secrets to these unknown terrifying strangers. 

Which, Jester supposed, was well within his rights. They were pretty scary after all. 

And then Caleb sighed heavily and Jester watched him with surprise as he shook his head, accent thick upon his lips, "We're all tired. I’m tired. But..." Another sigh, heavy and low as his eyes flicked up to make contact with Gallan's. He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, bandages stained around his hands and his fingers soft with worn callouses. 

That’s when Caleb's face changed, his eyes darkened, voice low and cold and full of unbending steel, "...I can get to work." 

One of his hands toyed with the lapel on the man's coat, never breaking eye contact. 

Jester swallowed thickly, something strange in her chest. 

Caleb was bluffing right? 

Surely he was bluffing. 

He wasn’t- he wasn’t going to torture the guy was he? She already felt bad enough about the axe in his head. 

Normally she would say no, of course not! It was Caleb!

But in that moment, in that stuffy room belowdecks, with Caleb's rough soft hands and his hard blue eyes, she didn’t know the answer. 

The man whimpered and the spell broke. He blubbered saying he’d tell them whatever they wanted to know, just to please spare him. Caleb leaned back and that facade, whatever it had been was gone, vanishing back within. 

Jester watched him for a moment as he shook himself, glancing back at her once, cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction. 

Jester felt like reevaluating one of her opinions. She’d thought Caleb was an easy read, a sad man with a tortured past. But he was also a very good actor. If that was anything to go by. Better than Fjord even, with his myriad of accents and his mask of many faces. She’d never even guessed at that strange terrifying determination laying below his surface. 

But which Caleb was the real one? Was the real one the man who stuttered when she got too close and turned red at the slightest compliment and cared for them all despite his outward annoyed muttering, or the one who stared into the deepest of darknesses and remained steadfast, unwavering?

She didn’t know. 

Jester bit her lip and looked away.

* * *

"How badly do we need this, Beau?"

Beauregard startled, turning to see Caleb, stiff and hunched under his hefty coat. 

Beau swiped a hand down her face, "Badly. Really badly. He’s not going to talk, not in time, and Nott and Jester, Caduceus and Fjord... they’ll die." She swiped at her nose, knuckles bloody, "Fuck. I just wish we had someone more persuasive here. But fucken Fjord... he had to get caught up in this. He couldn’t have just- just waited for us to get there. Just two seconds." 

Caleb's face was cast in shadow, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or if he’d left again as he was wont to do, vanishing into the darkness of his mind. But she couldn’t let him do that right now, not when he was all she had. 

Beau leaned forward, "Caleb, man, I really need you  _here_ . We're all we've got." 

Caleb looked up and she frowned in the face of his empty eyes, "We've got to do whatever is necessary, ja? For Nott? For the others?"

Beau furrowed her brow with confusion, "Uh... yeah?" 

Caleb nodded, back stiff and straight and she realized now it reminded her of a soldier's stance, when she’d seen a few of the more trained soldiers marching through her hometown, on their way to bigger things. 

He pulled off his scarf, folding it neatly, and then he shucked off his coat leaving him in his thin linen shirt, which was tucked neatly into his trousers, and his book holsters hanging from his narrow shoulders. He took his books out, carefully folding them under his coat. 

Beau frowned, "Uh Caleb? What're you doing?" 

He didn’t answer, turning about face and striding towards the door, "Hey, Caleb- Wait!" She cursed and followed him through the door where their captive sat, their sole lead to finding their friends. He was a little bruised and a little bloody. His arms were tied behind his back but his lips curved into a smile. 

He chuckled as they walked in, Beau sullen, Caleb silent, "What is this, a party? I hope you’ve realized the futility of your request. I don’t know anything, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you shit." 

Caleb turned, studying him slightly. The man frowned at his silence, eyes flicking between him and Beau. 

Caleb walked a few more paces, circling him as a vulture circles a fresh corpse. He waited another moment, careful, silent, still. Then in an abrupt turn, he reached down and pulled a small dagger out of his boot, standing again in one unusually swift and smooth movement. He took a step closer, a hand taking the man's chin as he tilted it first one way and then the other. 

Beau watched, curious. 

The man laughed, a hint of nervousness to him, "What is this? You’re siccing this guy on me? Nice try, but I’m not scared."

Caleb finally spoke, voice soft, accent thick and smooth and steadier than she’d ever heard it, "Do think you that I care?" 

"W- what?" 

Caleb met his eyes and Beau could see cornflower blue peeking out from under his red lashes, "Do you think that I care?" 

"About what?" 

"About you. About the morality of my actions. About my life." The knife traced the man's chin. The man looked down and then up, "I don’t know? I know fuck all about you." 

Caleb smiled, softly, warmly. A parody of the gentle smile he gave to Nott, except this time, there was nothing behind his eyes, "I thought not." With a quick, practiced flick of his wrist, there was a line of blood and split skin underneath the man's left eye, almost tracing it exactly. 

The man startled at the pain. Caleb tilted his head, long red hair obscuring his face from view, "You know I’ve found that the best way to remove an eye is slow. You start with the eyelid first and peel it back to give yourself a better view. It requires a rather... intimate knowledge of anatomy. Of course, I have a remarkable memory you know. It’s what you might call perfekt." He drew out perfect for a moment, the word almost clicking with his Zemnian accent. 

The blood was starting to flow from the cut and Caleb sighed, wiping it away with his thumb, "Ah Scheiße." He shook his head, "Head wounds bleed so much you know, it’s so pesky." He wiped his thumb on the man's shoulder, leaving a streak of red behind.

The cut was deeper than Beau had thought, almost undermining his eye, a cut made to dig under the delicate skin of the man's eye but over the bone of the socket. 

Caleb looked back up, "Where was I? Ah, right. How to cut properly. The eyelid first... Well, it’s tricky, but let me try and explain it in a way that you’ll understand." He hummed, thinking for a moment before seemingly deciding on how to go about it, "Have you ever peeled a peach before? It’s like that, you know? You have to dig a little, just gently cutting around the meat of the eye. So you can pop it right out, like a peach pit, you know?"

Beau swallowed thickly, nausea building, "Caleb-“ 

He didn’t respond, still speaking soft and low and firm, voice perfectly, horrifyingly even, "You’ve got to do it without damaging the eye, if you want a souvenir. That’s a little garish for my taste, you know? But I suppose I could be careful this time. So that after you tell us everything, which you will of course, you can maybe find a healer to put it back in for you." 

His voice dropped even lower, the knife gliding ever so gently against his captive's marred skin, "No muss no fuss, which is preferable, ja?" 

Whatever the man saw, or whatever he didn’t see in Caleb's eyes broke him. He nodded, eyes filling with tears, voice weak, "I- I know a little of where they took them- your- your friends I swear, just please-  _please_ don’t take my eye."

Caleb smiled, lips tight, "Ja, of course, mein freund. As long as you tell this nice young lady what we need to know, I won’t take your eye. This is all up to you, not me, you see?" He clapped the man's shoulder, and stood, leaning back. 

His glanced over in Beau's direction, eyes sliding off her like water. He wasn’t as steadfast as she'd first thought, hands trembling ever so slightly in their white knuckled grip around the knife handle. 

The man choked on a sob as Caleb left and Beau turned to look, mouth dry. 

Caleb had broken a man with a single practiced cut. 

She didn’t know if she should be impressed or scared. 

Scared, definitely.

Beau would ask later, after he’d put on his coat and scarf again, like layers of dirty and frayed woolen armor, if he really would have done it. Caleb would look at her, still and silent. His sky blue eyes would be empty, empty of everything, like glass marble. He’d lick his lips and look away eventually, keenly aware of how much he’d bared his soul to her yet again, like a fresh wound, raw and bleeding.

He would tell her no.

But Beau would know the truth because she’d seen it in his eyes.

He would've done it, if she'd asked, since she  _had_ in fact asked. She’d asked for _him_ , asked for the monster, even if she hadn’t quite known what she was asking for.

Whatever it takes, he had told her, even as his hands trembled from the effect of it and his red flaming hair hung low to hide his face, to hide his shame, to hide his festering morality.

Beau would be left to wonder if Caleb's coat was armor to shield himself from the world or to shield the world from him.

* * *

As evening settled her cloak of night around them, Caduceus wanted to cast a quick comprehend languages on Caleb's muttering in... what was it again? Ah, that’s right, Zemnian, he’d said. But while he was tempted, ever so slightly, to make the motion and mutter the words, he remained silent.

Caleb deserved his privacy just as much as everyone else.

He stroked the man's hair again, marveling at its softness. It probably would’ve been as greasy as normal, but Nott had pulled him away from the group that morning before they'd left camp and returned with him very shy and dripping wet from the stream.

Caduceus had spent most of the day in the back sitting with the others after Jester had decided she would like a turn driving the cart. It had really been his first time doing so and surprisingly, he hadn’t minded it one bit. 

Jester had babbled on to Fjord next to her about something, eyes bright as Fjord nodded along, their conversation becoming a soft background hum of happiness. Yasha had sat at the very back of the cart, murmuring to Beau and occasionally Caleb, soft and quiet.

Caduceus liked Yasha. She was quiet, and still, and calm. Something most people in this group didn’t have. She wore her pain well, almost unassuming in its nature, but Caduceus could sense that it ran deep and strong underneath her solemn facade.

Across from him had sat Nott and Caleb. Nott had fallen asleep sometime during the trip, obviously tired from keeping watch. She’d curled up around the wizard's arm, clinging to it like a lifeline and snoring quietly.

Caleb, meanwhile, clean and fresh, had read his book, a hand stroking Nott's hair lovingly. He hadn’t noticed before but Caleb's beard was a deep auburn when before it had been so coated in dirt, he hadn’t been able to tell. Even his lashes were red, a splash of color next to his fair skin and numerous freckles- and now it made sense why Beau teased him about sunburn all along the coast. Caduceus had also noted that every time Caleb’s eyes wandered from his reading to Nott sleeping next him, his lips curved up in a smile.

Caduceus couldn’t help but wonder about them, even now in the present as Caleb twisted, whimpering, eyes shut tight as he was caught in the throes of a nightmare.

He didn’t quite know what to do, only following instinct and hoping he could bring comfort as he slowly pet hair the color of fire as he’d seen Caleb do to Nott that morning.

Caduceus was glad however, that he hadn’t taken the watch alone. 

He looked up at Yasha, her eyes soft as she nodded and knelt, gently taking Caleb and placing his head in her lap. She shushed him softly as his cry dwindled into a moan, a hand stroking his forehead.

He stilled after the contact, relaxing, eyes still flickering under their lids.

Caduceus sighed with relief, "Thank you for your help, Miss Yasha."

Yasha nodded, not looking up, hands fiddling slightly and then seeming to find meaning in braiding his hair, fingers quick and nimble from practice, "It was nothing."

The firbolg eyed her carefully, brow softening. She really cared for them, despite her almost apathetic behavior and frequent absences.

His thoughts were interrupted as Caleb murmured, in common this time, quiet and strangled, a hand curling into the grass, “Please don’t make me kill them, bitte mach mich nicht."

Yasha stilled, fingers slowing the braid.

Caduceus watched as Caleb turned, fingers clawing at the ground for purchase as he cried out again. Caleb's words were still imprinted in Caduceus's brain like a brand of fire. Caduceus's fingers twitched, tempted again to cast comprehend languages, but it was Caleb's business, he deserved privacy for his scars.

Yasha began braiding again, murmuring comforting nothings to Caleb and Caduceus knelt next to the broken man on the grass and tried his best to comfort him and lessen the hold of his demons.

* * *

Nott didn’t know what to make of the man across from her, if he could really be called that now. The broken body had hardly moved since the guards had first deposited it in her cell three days ago when one had spit on him and the other had given him a parting kick and the words, "Hopefully the monster will eat you, filth."

She was sorely tempted to eat him, but she wouldn’t do it till he was dead. She wasn’t  _that_ terrible . She’d definitely known a few clan mates who wouldn’t have hesitated and perhaps even enjoyed such a disgusting task, but she was, as they all had liked to point out, not like them in the slightest.

For now she could make do with the bread and water they supplied as well as the healthy population of rats. If she thought about it, despite the cold and the damp and the occasional times she had to put up with guards taking out their frustrations on the prisoners, she actually found it quite comfortable. The regular public couldn’t take their anger out on her and she had a dependable supply of food.

Really she might’ve even considered staying for a bit except that the itch was taking hold of her again.

Nott eyed the body. Maybe the guards had missed a shiny on the body, and besides, she didn’t think that the body would really mind. He hadn’t minded her taking his food this whole time and she’d been extremely wary of an angry reaction even though none had ever come.

Nott crept over to the body of the man, slumped from where he'd fallen two days ago, completely motionless on the floor. She poked him, just once, bracing herself for flight if he attacked.

None came.

Nott grinned and scrambled over, pushing the man over onto his back. It was easier than she’d thought it would be. The big people were usually so heavy, but he was very light. Nott frowned, wondering what was so defective about this one. 

The thing's face was coated in dirt after so many days, bruised and battered with dried blood under his nose. He had a scruffy beard which was coated in muck and russet colored hair that hung around his neck which, she supposed, might’ve been red once. His ears she found, were round, which meant he was human. There were also tracks through the dirt, as if water had met his face once and fairly recently. She frowned before realizing it had come from his eyes. She’d seen a lot of big people break in her time and it was never a pleasant thing. She didn’t like it when they cried.

His eyes remained closed at her movements, however, so she shrugged and poked through his pockets, hissing as she found only pocket lint.

She pushed the coat aside to check his shirt for pockets and found only strange empty holsters and, as she felt down his side, very prominent ribs. She winced, realizing why he’d been so light. The man had probably not been eating very much at all before he’d found himself in this cell.

She’d only been caught for stealing that rather nice cherry wine, desperate for a little luxury. This poor fool on the other hand had probably been desperate for a slice of bread.

She sighed, finding no shinies on the man's body, resigning herself to waiting for him to die so she could feast.

She didn’t want for food, though. And this dirty man, as skinny as he was, probably wouldn’t fill her up in the slightest. The only thing she wanted for in this cell was shiny things and company.

She eyed the body, which breathed slowly, slightly.

She was considering something truly insane.

Nott swallowed thickly and leaned over, poking his cheek warily. The human didn't so much as twitch. She huffed, picking up one of his eyelids and letting it snap back. The man startled and this time Nott skittered off, crouching, waiting for the man to notice her in the darkness.

He blinked, sitting up, fingers digging into the ground. He seemed weak, hardly able to get upright and having to rest his back against the wall to keep himself up. He rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands over his face.

He squinted in the darkness.

It was then that Nott remembered how weak humans were, how their eyes couldn’t see in the dark. She frowned, realizing that she would have to introduce herself.

Just as she was weighing her options in her mind, the man muttered under his breath, words she didn’t recognize, and his empty hands reached up, fingers unfolding and revealing a bright ball of light, yellow, warm, and golden.

The light shone clear and threw his face into sharp relief, revealing hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, eyes which were the clearest blue Nott had ever seen.

The man blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light as his brow furrowed before slowly coming to rest on her.

They both stared for a moment, and then Nott broke the silence waving a hand awkwardly, "Uh, hi?" 

The man startled, fingers twitching as three more globs of golden light spilled from his fingertips, fleeing to the ceiling as if running when he could not, "Scheisse!"

Nott held up her hands, bracing for a blow, "Wait, wait! I’m friendly I’m friendly don't kill me!"

After a moment passed and nothing came to hurt her, she opened one eye and then the other. The man had braced himself flat against the wall, preparing for a blow himself. Nott blinked as she watched him tremble and then open an eye as well, only to see her wincing.

Nott snorted which turned into a cackle and then into full blown laughter.

The man's eyes flicked to the locked cell door and then back to her. He licked his lips and then asked hesitantly, "W- what is so funny?" His words were thick and heavily accented, clumsy in his mouth as if he wasn’t used to saying them.

Nott wiped at her eyes, trying to contain her half broken mirth, "We- we both thought that the other was going to attack us- it- it-“ she dissolved into laughter again, "It’s just funny."

The man seemed to have calmed, leaning forward as he examined her, studying her motions. Whatever he seemed to gather made him relax slightly, “Ah. I suppose that might be funny."

Nott's laughter died down and she shook herself. She was still very curious about this filthy sickly man that created light from his fingertips. She edged closer, cocking her head curiously, “How did you do that by the way?"

He seemed puzzled, "What do you mean?"

She nodded at him, "The, ah, the lights?" 

He blinked and looked up, "Oh! Ja, ja, those, the dancing lights." With a practiced and almost elegant flick of his wrist, the lights spiraled down to curl around his hand. She watched, eyes widening as she gasped.

The man looked at her and, though she didn’t see it and only the moldy and dampened walls of their prison were witness to this momentous action, the corners of the man's mouth quirked upwards into an echo of a smile. It was only there for a fraction of a moment, but it had been the first semblance of a smile that the man had made in a very  _very_ long time.

Nott reached out to touch one and Caleb's fingers twitched. The lights spun out and then around her, dancing in a circle. Nott laughed, "Wow! This is amazing! How do you do that?"

"Well... ah..." he shrugged, "Books. And practice. Lots of practice. This is only a little spell though. I..." his face darkened, "I used to have a cat."

Nott eyed him, "A cat?"

"A magic cat," he supplied rather unhelpfully.

Nott looked around, as if it would appear somewhere in the cell at the mere mention of it, "Really? Where? What happened to it?"

The man looked away, lips thin and eyes hard, "The guards killed him. He- he was only protecting me."

Nott frowned, hands on her hips, "What kinda shithead kills a cat?"

The man seemed startled by her vehemence before nodding hesitantly, "Ja. That is what I thought. I did not try and ask though... I was rather, ah, hm otherwise occupied." He added, "Getting arrested." His next addition was even quieter, "For stealing."

Nott decided she liked him. Even if he was, apparently, a horrible thief. She crossed her arms, clumsily imitating his accent, "Well fuck em, ja?"

The man's lips quirked upwards in a ghost of a smile before vanishing again, as slippery as smoke, "Ja."

Nott eyed him, thinking, before abruptly she held out her small green hand, "My name is Nott! Nott the brave. We should know each other’s names if we're going to be working together."

His eyes widened but he took her hand after only a moment of hesitation. Strangely enough though, she didn’t get the sense that his hesitance was from her goblin form but more from simple confusion, "Ahm. I’m- I’m Caleb Widogast- working together?"

She nodded, "Well you want to get out of this cell don't you?"

"W- well, ja, I just... I am not a very good thief, little one." Nott just barely suppressed her startle at the nickname that seemed to slip unaware into his speech. She had no idea why he called her that, especially considering her teeth and her claws and her eyes.

She recovered quickly, "You might not be, but I am. And I bet you’ve got enough magic stuff to make a distraction."

The man, Caleb, nodded after a moment, "Ja, I- I do."

She grinned, something blooming in her chest, "Great! Then I look forward to our working relationship, Caleb."

She shook his hand, once, firmly, and the deal was struck. 

Nott found that Caleb was a very useful if very skittish partner. His sleep was plagued by screams and shouts and he only took food at her behest, but she found that he never forgot anything. And by never forgot anything, she really meant it. He had recited their first meeting word for word three days after it had happened and then tapped his head, some amusement in his features and said, "Mind like a steel trap. I know exactly how to get of this place."

That was when he first truly endeared himself to her. At first he’d been only a means to an end, a potential tool. But under his sad demeanor and intense self-loathing, she found a crooked part of him- one inclined to mischief. It was severely damaged and obviously suppressed after so many years left abandoned in the corners of his mind, but it was there and she was slowly able to coax it into the light.

Another part of it was that he didn’t seem to mind her in the slightest. She’d never met anyone other than Yeza who treated her like a person. After that initial startlefrom their first meeting, he seemed to express no other qualms about her appearance or about what she was.

When she first suffered from the itch, curled into a ball from the pure need for it, he'd shouted at one of the guards till they’d come over. She hadn’t been exactly aware of what was said, except that they pulled Caleb out and much later returned him bruised and bloody. She’d looked at him, curious and shaking and he’d grinned widely througha black eye and bloodied teeth and passed her what appeared to be a small ring. It was bronze, worn smooth, but it shone faintly from the light and it was enough. 

She’d taken it with a sob and then, after a moment, thrown herself at him. He seemed tense with surprise at first before relaxing and gently petting her greasy matted hair, murmuring words in his mother tongue.

Later that night, when it was her turn to hold him, brushing his hair and soothing him as he whimpered in his sleep from whatever it was that haunted him, Nott made up her mind. 

If Caleb was okay with it, she was going to stick with him after all this, to protect him. He was soft and squishy and almost helpless. She’d seen him try to stand up to the guards and his punch would’ve made her laugh if she wasn’t so worried for him. He’d been starving himself before she’d come along, who knows what else would happen to him if she let him go out alone with his terrible thieving skills?

She didn’t quite know when it had become both Caleb-and-Nott and Nott-and-Caleb, but it had and he was hers and she was his.

And then the plan was ready to be put into motion. The beginning went off without a hitch (the distraction, the lock picking, the running), but it was right in the middle part, when she was scrambling through the storeroom for her crossbow and Caleb was searching for his books (he insisted that they had to find them) that the first guard found them.

He'd opened his mouth, swinging out with his sword and Nott had stared up, knowing that there was no way to avoid his strike. She braced herself for the end, and then Caleb threw out a hand, his blue eyes glowing as bright as miniature stars, skin crackling like burned parchment, melting into black as something bright and white-hot shot out at the man's head.

Nott didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget it, the sight of flames licking around the guard's head as he gave a strangled scream, skin melting off of his skull as he listed sideways into the wall to reveal Caleb there, behind him, hand outstretched.

Nott stared, mouth agape, as smoke drifted from the blackened hand, fingertips glowing orange from the heat of the fire, hair and coat settling against him once more. For a moment, Nott glimpsed anger there, a deep fury and crackling power and terrifying potential mixed with the smell of smoke and char and burning meat.

And then he sagged, eyes distant and so terribly scared as he looked at the smoldering corpse.

Nott reached out and took his hand, the hand that had just saved her ( _that had just burnt a man to death_ ) and pulled him after her, looking into those horrified ice blue eyes ( _eyes that just a second ago had been remorseless and filled with a burning rage_ ), "C'mon, Caleb, we've go to run!"

His fingers tightened imperceptibly around her own.

_Hers._

They ran.

* * *

Caleb sat, fingers folded together, voice rough, "You can’t go to the academy, Fjord."

Fjord nodded, not looking at him but at the fire, chin in his hands, "I know that Caleb. I’ve figured out that my type of learning isn’t the same as yours, but I still would just like to see it. They might know more about Uk'otoa." 

Jester nodded eagerly from where she sat crosslegged next to Fjord, "Besides, the academy is supposed to be like really pretty so I want to see it too!" 

Beau shifted from across the fire, lips twisting, but she remained silent. Caduceus hummed quietly from where he knelt by the fire, making tea. Yasha sat a few feet from the monk, her book of flowers open in her lap as she’d gently rested the blossoms in between the pages. She added quietly, “I would also like to go there. The man we met, ah Ikithon, I believe said he would like to see me again. I think I could get you into Soltryce at least, Fjord." 

Caleb flinched at the name and Nott's fingers tightened around his arm. 

Fjord nodded, "That’s settled then. Tomorrow when we reach Rexxentrum-“ 

"No,” Caleb's voice interrupted him, hard and cold, "Fjord, you  _can’t_ go to Soltryce. Neither can you Yasha." 

They both stared him. Fjord started cautiously, “Caleb..." 

Caleb lifted his head, eyes blazing, "No. I will not change my mind on this. I- I-“ he took a deep breath and Nott squeezed his hand carefully as she peered up at him, yellow eyes glittering in the firelight. He took another breath, "Yasha. I am sorry for not telling you sooner. I- I should have. But... but I was scared." 

He met her eyes, "I am a coward, ja?" 

She waited patiently. Jester stared at him. Beau remained wide-eyed, breathless. 

Caleb closed his eyes, "I know Trent Ikithon. I know him because he was my personal instructor before I graduated from Soltryce Academy." 

There was a moment of silence and then Jester asked, faintly accusatory and unusually solemn for her, "Why didn’t you tell us Caleb?" 

His eyes flicked to hers and then away, "I... I did not want to tell you the rest of it. You see- I- I am a trash person-“ he could feel Nott open her mouth and see several others in their group open their mouth to protest- Jester included- and he spoke over them loudly, "And you all tell me I am not and I thank you for it, but you do not know the full story and I only ask that you let me tell it and make your own judgments." 

All mouths abruptly closed. 

Fjord nodded, "We're listening, Caleb." 

Caleb closed his eyes, "Thank you." Another moment passed and then he began, "I... I grew up outside of Rexxentrum, you see. In Blumenthal in the Zemni Fields. I... I was rather talented in magic, you know?" 

He stared into the flames, quiet and careful, "My parents... my mother and father, they wanted the best for me and they were so  _so_ proud when the Academy accepted me. It was something that us poor farmers could only have dreamed of, ja?" He chuckled wryly, without a hint of amusement. 

"I was very good. Exceptional even. I and two others, two people from my hometown, even, were accepted into Soltryce. Eodwulf and- and Astrid." 

He saw Jester's eyes go wide. 

He continued on, "We were very gifted so ah, Trent Ikithon took us under his wing. It was a great honor, you know? He taught us a lot. A lot of private training. But... but you know, we were training to do special important things. For the glory of the Dwendalian Empire. We did anything he asked. We idolized him." 

He could feel Nott's grip on his arms tightening with every word, "Eventually he moved on to bigger things. He brought in criminals and traitors and bad  _bad_ people. He... he showed us how to kill. He showed us to torture. How to survive torture and twist it to our own ends. He did terrible things to us and we did terrible things to others. We... we were subjected to a lot of torturing and we did a lot of murdering. And- and none of this was against our will. He said jump and we said how high. It doesn’t matter the circumstances. We were all accountable. We all did truly evil things." 

He looked up. Beau was wincing almost imperceptibly in the firelight. 

Caleb couldn’t look at the others so he kept his head down, facing the flickering flames, which was almost worse than faces of disgust and horror, "And then we, ah, we were going to graduate. So- so we got sent home for a bit. We were all... we were all very excited. We thought- we thought that what we were doing was for the good of the Empire." His words with thick with venom and a vicious vitriol, "We were _stupid_." 

He laced his fingers together, "And then, the night before we were going to graduate, I heard my mother and father at home, conspiring against the Empire. They were rebels and traitors. My wonderful loving parents. And I was  _ashamed_ of them. But I... but I didn’t say anything. And then we graduated and I- I felt so convicted. I told them. And we... we were told to do what was necessary. So... so we did." 

His grip had gone white knuckled from how hard he clutched them, "I... I put a wagon in front of my parent’s house and then I... I set it on fire. I was  _so sure_ . And then... then I heard their screams. As they burnt alive- as  _I_ burnt them them alive." 

Was he crying? He felt like he was crying with the way his voice cracked and choked, "And I broke a little. I... ahm. It was not a little. I broke. And I spent a long time in an asylum. A very long time there. And then a woman came and she took away the madness and the confusion and I... I remembered. Everything. Even the ah, even the false memories Ikithon had implanted in my mind of my parents conspiring to betray the Empire."

He heard a gasp as he rubbed his eyes, "And then ah, I well, you know, did what I was trained for. What I do best." His voice was bitter and broken, "I murdered the men guarding me and ran away. And you know eventually I ran into Nott."

He patted Nott's hand on his arm, "That’s why you can't go to the academy, Fjord. You cannot. They- they will teach you so much, but it- it will come at a terrible price. It’s not... it’s not worth it. And Yasha. You cannot let Ikithon get his claws into you. He is too dangerous. Too powerful." 

He looked up finally, daring to meet their eyes. 

Beau looked murderous, glaring down at her feet. Yasha was stony and cold and unreadable. Caduceus appeared visibly distraught. Fjord next to him was darkly furious, eyes narrowed and gaze sharp, seeming to pin him in place. Jester had her hands to her mouth and tears in her eyes. 

He swallowed, "I- I know that this is a lot... and I am sorry I waited so long to tell you- and I didn’t mean to endanger you all and I- I understand if things are going to change between us now and I am- I am prepared for that, just... just please don’t look for Ikithon. Please." 

Fjord looked down at him, voice dangerously soft, "Why would things change, Caleb?" 

The wizard backtracked, “Why- why would they not? I am a murderer and I have done horrific disgusting things. I am a disgusting person. I will understand if you do not wish for me to be a part of the Mighty Nein anymore-“ 

Fjord cleared his throat, stopping his awkward stumbling, "Caleb, I think you misunderstand me. And us, and our intentions." He turned to the others, "Unless someone would like to side with Caleb?" 

There were crickets. 

No one spoke up. 

Caleb's brows furrowed, "I- I don’t understand." 

Fjord put a hand on Caleb's shoulder and he couldn’t help the flinch that came with the contact. Fjord stared into his eyes, "How old were you, Caleb, when Ikithon took you under his wing and you did all those evil things?" 

Caleb winced, eyes lowering, "I was fifteen." 

He heard someone choke and then Fjord chuckled softly and that was scarier than anything he could’ve said. There was no humor in his voice as he said, "Caleb, look at me." 

He did. 

Fjord sighed, "I promise you, I won’t go to Soltryce. I will not pursue Trent Ikithon." 

Caleb sagged in relief and then Fjord continued, his next words hard and sharp, "But if I ever meet this Ikithon again I will fucking kill him, you understand?" 

Caleb's eyes widened, "I... I think you’ve lost me again." 

Jester leaned forward, and as she spoke he could hear the barely controlled fury in her voice, fists clenched, tears trailing down her cheeks, "I’m with you, Fjord." She wiped her eyes and then gave a watery smile to Caleb and  _why_ was she smiling at  _him_ , didn't she see how  _filthy_ and  _disgusting_ he was? Her head bobbed, "Don't worry, Caleb, we'll protect you! I'll use my spiritual weapon to bash his head in!" 

Beau nodded, "And I’ll punch the shit out of him. He won’t know what hit him." 

Caduceus poured his tea carefully into a cup, "This... man sounds like a great evil. I think I will... I think I will join you on that, Jester." He nodded and pressed the teacup gently Caleb's hands, as if he were some fragile  _precious_ thing that needed to be protected and why were they treating him like  _that_ _?_ Even after they had heard of his sins? 

Yasha added, cold and icy and Caleb realized her righteous anger, her barbaric rage, was not directed at him but at  _Ikithon_ , "I will not let him lay so much one more finger on you, Caleb, do you understand?"

It was all too much. His fingers trembled and he dropped the teacup, Caduceus's tea spilling out on the ground and he brought his hands up to his face, "Why- why are you saying this? I don’t understand. Did you not hear me? I- I  _murdered_ my own  _parents_ , I lit them on fire and burned them to death and listened to their  _screams_ \- why-  _why_ are  _none_ of you angry at me? Did you not see what I’ve done? Do you not see how much I deserve to pay?" 

Nott grabbed at his arms and Jester's face filled with tears and Caduceus reached out a hand, Beau uncharacteristically saddened, Yasha's brow only softening with compassion and kindness and it was  _too much-_

Fjord took ahold of his head, fingers twisting in his red hair, another hand pressing gently at his back as Fjord pulled him in, pressing Caleb's forehead against his cool leather armor as he said the most disturbing thing that Caleb could hear in that moment, "Because, Caleb, we love you. You’re ours now, whether you like it or not."

He heard a watery laugh and then Jester said quietly in a half sob-half laugh, "Welcome to the Mighty Nein!"

Caleb broke.

But it wasn’t like before, so many years ago, when his brilliant mind had crumbled and his awareness had been destroyed, now, it was almost a relief.

The pressure that had been building and building and building burst, like a bubble. He clung to Fjord, and found himself weeping, and he felt Nott clamber into his lap, and Fjord pull him close and Jester's hands on his back and Yasha and Caduceus's heavy comforting presence at his sides and Beau's hesitant hand in hair, careful and shy.

Caleb let himself break and this time, they were there to catch him.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is here! https://ford-ye-fiji.tumblr.com/


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